


Seven People Walk Into The Vatican

by LLE Veid (numrockz)



Series: There Will Be Seven [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Nipple Dippers - Freeform, Other, Save Greendale Committee - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5115704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numrockz/pseuds/LLE%20Veid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff has been waiting for five months for Annie and Abed, and he's ready to give up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven People Walk Into The Vatican

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the events in Colorado to Chicago.
> 
> This serves as the cold open to the There Will Be Seven series...yes...there is...and I could hopefully roll parts out in real time...

**Cold Open : Seven People Walk into The Vatican**

**A Prelude to There Will Be Seven**

 

                _Dia de los Muertos._

_The Day of the Dead._

_November 1._

_It’s been a month since his last contact with the twins._

_The semester was about to start, and he’d given them updates since the day they left. Contact was mostly himself spamming their inboxes with frenetic texts on the whereabouts of the … ugh … Nipple Dippers._

_That name stuck like Bazookas on Italian leather._

_He held on to his word that night. He gave him hope._

_SHE gave him hope._

_They said they were coming back._

_At least that’s what he believed…They made him believe beyond his doubts…_

_But now?_

_After a whole summer and a month of one-sided texting, he’s having none of that anymore._

_Each and every day of September, expecting his Bogart-esque “Hey Guys” or feeling her hand on his shoul –_

 

“Okay…Jeffrey. This is unhealthy.”

 

Craig Pelton waves a dozen sheets of legal pad in his hands, then clears his throat after trying to read in Jeff’s voice.

 

“KEEP GOING!”

 

Jeff zombie slurred and slumped in his seat.

 

“We have been doing this every night since October. At first this was cute. You come to me with your innermost thoughts - and I was flattered, by the way, because you know I’m always here for you -- but all this is…”

 

Craig Pelton shuffled pages of narration.

 

“…This is just too much. ‘Bogart-esque’? I mean, really? And this…Annie…Oh…You don’t write diary entries on legal pads for everybody to read, Jeffrey.”

“Says the stalker who updates his Facebook status with pictures of pages of Jeff Winger’s monologues. You know that’s unprofessional, right?”

 

Frankie dead-panned from across the table.

 

“Excuse me. I’m a student. I have an unwritten right to humiliate faculty on the Internet like every other student at Greendale.”

“Jeff, this is unhealthy. Britta, please stop giving him iced tea. He’s sugar crashing.”

Britta raises a thumb up from behind the counter.

“I told you this was intervention material.” Craig Pelton whispered loudly.

“I can hear you, Pelton.” Jeff groaned.

“As someone who has finally gotten her shit together, thanks to Jeff Winger, I would like to offer my servic  --“

“NO.” Jeff held a finger up at Britta.

“Jeff, this is unhealthy.” Britta slams a pitcher of ice cold water on the table.

 

“Stop saying that! I’ve never been healthier and more productive my entire life! I’m off scotch for what? Four months? I CrossFit daily. I’m nailing my parkour lessons…mind you, I can climb walls and ninja down buildings twenty feet high…AT FORTY-ONE BITCHES. I’ve set up programs and affordable facilities for stress and frustration release, and as a compromise with Frankie, we set up a whole school dedicated to the science of paintball to establish rules on student ownership and usage.”

 

“But for what? This?” Frankie tries to reach across the table for Jeff’s narration. Craig Pelton selfishly hands them to her page by page…after taking pictures of them with his phone.

 

“This?”

 

She waves the bundle of pages in her hand.

 

“Abed told me to be ready.”

 

“Abed is gone, Jeff. If he’s really in Chicago with Annie and decided to stay there, then they’re probably having fun, or being productive, or both. We’ll never know because unlike you, they’ve probably moved on. You’ve been texting them for months, and they played you like that thing that gets played…with.”

 

Frankie leafs through the pages…she seems detached at first, then slowly warms up to it by the third page.

 

Britta sees an opening as Frankie devours Jeff’s narration.

 

“Jeff, we were with you through this for the whole summer, and in that period I managed to have a second job, and for the first time, money’s not just slipping through my hands. I bore down on my psych classes. And I didn’t Britta our apartment up -- because we all know how Abed is about change -- even when I don’t believe they’re coming back. These were good things, Jeff…at first…you let that spring of hope bubble in you like a spring of water…that…anyway, Jeff, it’s good to find hope in something like Annie and Abed coming back, but not having them here when you expect them is tearing you apart. You don’t always have to get it from the ones who you know have moved on. We’re here. Let us give you hope.”

 

Craig Pelton pretended like her monologue didn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy.

Jeff glowered at Britta like he had an epiphany…which he did have…actually.

 

“Abed was right about you and Frankie.” He said.

“Me and Frankie? We’re not together. Are we together, Frankie?”

 

Frankie allowed herself to be distracted from the pages.

 

“No, Jeff. We’re not. Abed isn’t always right.”

“Abed’s never wrong.” Jeff snapped at her.

“I agree.” Craig Pelton rests a hand on Jeff’s pecs.

“When he left he told me you two were going to drive people sane.” Jeff curtly told them.

 

Frankie ponders on this.

 

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, right?”

 

Britta whoops and points at Jeff.

 

“HAH! That means Abed thinks I’m shaping up to be a good therapizer! Britta for the –“

“Britta for the Britta, Britta. When I walked into Greendale, I was sane. I was a sane, miserable motherfucker with friends who stabbed me in the back.”

 

Winger pauses for effect and stands up.

Frankie has finally laid the pages down on the table, and Britta didn’t even babble back. Craig Pelton was attentive, as usual.

 

“And when I was sane I didn’t want to do anything else but get in your pants, Britta, because you were hot, and that’s normal. When I was sane you were insufferable fools who would get into arguments for no reason. When I was sane I cannot be bothered to remember your names because none of you will be relevant to me in the long run. I was Jeff Winger, a shark that appealed to the court’s better nature to get what I want without considering the consequences because to a lawyer, aiming to win a case is the rational thing to do, and what is rational is sane.”

“Excuse me, I’m new here --” Frankie looks at everyone.

“Sssh!” Britta grit her teeth at Frankie. Frankie looks to Craig Pelton for help. He just shakes his head in disbelief at her.

 

Jeff stares at her long enough for her to get that she should NEVER interrupt a Winger speech.

 

“People who are sane never care, Frankie. They impose on other people what they think is best for them because a computer punched a bunch of numbers and the percentage that comes out of it tells them it is. People with their wits about them run for their lives when the going gets tough because being sane is every animal’s basest instinct. That’s not who I am anymore, am I? I’m a Human Being. I’m acting against instinct…even when it doesn’t make sense to anybody but that voice in my head. When I was sane I didn’t believe in love or best friends. Now I believe I lost both because I want them to be like us. What I’m doing right now is caring. So, no, Frankie, being sane is not always a good thing.”

 

“Jeffrey.” Pelton makes his ‘aww’ face, which isn’t as pleasant to look at as when Annie did it, and clutched at his chest.

“Wingerrrrrrrrrrr…” Britta melts onto the table.

Frankie shies her eyes away from his steely gaze.

 

“But I don’t want to care anymore. I’m forty-one, and I’m tired of caring. I’m narrating myself out of the hope in my head because, like each of you said, this is unhealthy. Caring is unhealthy. I’ve had sleepless nights waiting for texts that never come. My blood sugar is at its limit. I’m pushing myself too hard to create a place they’d always wanted. I’m fit, alright, but I’m not myself anymore. I’m done being the smitten dad overdecorating a nursery for the twins. And that is why Abed is right. This is your fault. It’s your fault that I’m giving up.”

 

He looks at each of them in the eye to punctuate his speech. They’ve just been Winger-ed.

 

He’s fuming like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, but despite that, he let Craig Pelton soothe his back and mumble a few words of encouragement.

 

Britta cowered as Craig Pelton shot her an angry glance.

 

“So, this is what’s left of The Nipple Dippers, a testament to Greendale’s commitment to be a better, more productive community college.” Suddenly said a shifty voice behind Jeff.

 

“Waite.”

“Winger.”

 

Jeff turns to find Bob Waite with a waif-like creature standing close to him. She seems fragile, but the look on her face tells them she’s anything but. She’s swimming in the size of her clothes and her unkempt hair. Either she doesn’t care, or she’s a hipster. Despite that, he finds interest in her.

 

Jeff shifts to business mode. Everyone else around the table followed suit.

 

This is Bob Waite, Greendale’s Chief Custodian. He never appears unless there’s shady business, and that shady business definitely has something to do with this lady.

 

“Come drink with us. Who’s your lady friend, Waite?”

 

The lady shot him a glance.

 

Bob prepared the seat beside Jeff for his guest and took a place next to Frankie.

 

“Summer.” She says and holds out a hand for him to shake before she takes her seat.

 

Jeff smolders at her from his side of the table as he slowly takes her hand.

 

“Summer. What are you having?” He snaps his fingers at Britta.

“Water’s fine.” Summer takes the pitcher and fills up one of Jeff’s empty glasses.

“You don’t want to hit on my sister, Winger.” Bob chuckles then turns to Britta.

“I’ll have a JD and Coke.” Britta pouts and returns to her charge behind the counter.

 

“I’m not doing anything.” Jeff replies, slyly.

 

Jeff and Summer look at each other for a moment.

 

“It’s not happening.” She declares.

_She spoke gently_ , _but her words slowly cut through him like a dull knife_. _It bugs him, but he’s strangely attracted to the pain._

_“It’s not happening?” Since when did it not happen for Jeff Winger?_

 

Craig Pelton’s Dickensian diction is now reclining on the table, shifting glances at Summer and Jeff, slightly enjoying the proverbial dagger with which Summer so efficiently impaled Jeff. Sure he’s all for Jeffrey, but he’s curious about this girl.

 

“Excuse me?” Jeff croaks.

“In the five seconds we looked at each other, I think I orgasmed a few times. That’s always not a good sign.”

 

Jeff laughs nervously.

 

“How is that not a good sign?”

“It grosses me out how easily you turn me on. Now I just cringe internally whenever I look at you.”

 

Jeff faces Craig Pelton with a ‘can-you-believe-this-girl?’ look on his face. Craig Pelton seems to believe that girl and, therefore, pays no mind to Jeff’s quandary.

 

Summer notices Britta spilling Bob’s drink onto the floor, staring at her.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Britta quizzes everybody else and then points at herself.

 

“Yeah, you.”

“Britta.”

“Britta. You’re free this Saturday because we’re going on a date.”

“Ooookaaaaaaayyyyy…I guessssssss?”

 

Britta turns to Jeff with a ‘can-you-believe-this-girl?’ look on her face. Jeff mouthed, “I know, right?” Bob Waite finally guffawed from being ignored a long time, turned to his sister, and gesticulated at Frankie. “This is Frankie Dart, Dean of Student and Administrative Affairs.”

“She does all that?”

“She’s the only one who can manage it…with Annie Edison gone.”

“And she is --?”

“Like a pocket version of Frankie.”

 

Summer nods as she turns to her.

 

Frankie makes that noise that Annie usually makes when she’s giddy...then she widens her eyes at the Nipple Dippers like ‘what is happening?!?’

 

They don’t know either.

 

“See? Exactly like her.”

“I don’t know who Annie is.”

“Of course.”

 

Frankie picks her phone up and fumbles with it in a tizzy.

 

Bob looks for a place on Craig Pelton to place his hand and finally decides to put it on his head. “This is Craig Pelton, former dean of Greendale Community College, currently a student, masters in regulatory affairs management.” Craig Pelton bows courteously in his recline.

 

“I like you, Summer.” He honestly tells her.

She assesses him slightly and smiles.

 

Craig Pelton smiles, content.

 

Bob points at Britta. “You know Britta.”

 

Britta waited for an elaborate introduction.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know you.” Bob turns to Summer. “She was a bartender at a speakeasy at Greendale.”

“Really?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I’m one of the Greendale 7, Bob.”

“Sincerely, I apologize. I can remember your face and your weird name, but I can’t, for the life of me, remember why you’re in Greendale.”

 

Britta sits in a huff.

 

Then Bob faces Jeff. “And that’s Jeff Winger, Dean of Greendale Community College.”

“Did you conveniently slide into deanship by smoldering at Craig Pelton?” Summer innocently asked…seemingly.

 

Jeff grimaced.

Craig Pelton sincerely giggled.

 

“Ooh. Kitty’s got claws.”

 

Bob laughed nervously while hiding his amusement.

 

“Summer, you don’t want to do that.”

“I really don’t like him.”

“What’s this about, Bob?” Jeff’s growing impatient…and increasingly worried by Summer’s lack of interest in him.

“Long story short, my sister’s a very gifted person. She breezed through high school like wind from an exhaust vent upskirting Marilyn Monroe. College wasn’t hard for her, either, but she struggled picking what she really wants.”

 

Jeff’s brows knit.

 

“Long story short, she took an interest in movies, like your Indian friend, Abed.”

“He’s half-Palestinian.”

“Long story short, she finished her degree in Asian film studies, ON SCHOLARSHIP, at City College…on the condition that she serves the school for five years.”

 

At City College. Jeff perked up.

 

“Long story short, she’s halfway through her bond, then they decide to dissolve her program because of slacking enrollment, and she’s left with nothing to do.”

 

Bob lovingly looks at Summer.

_He either sincerely cares about his sister’s welfare or City College caught wind of Greendale’s quasi-militarization and decides to plant a mole. That makes Bob Waite either an accessory or an abettor._

_Bob is wily by nature. He could have gotten a deal out of this._

_Jeff warily proceeds._

Bob is looking at Jeff weird.

Summer seems to have completely rubbed him off her list.

Craig Pelton and the rest of the Nipple Dippers are embarrassed for him.

 

“Did I just say that out loud?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“Look, I’m not the one asking for help here. You come to me with your sister semi-kicked out OF CITY COLLEGE. If you were doing business with Pelton, he’ll hire her without thought because that’s just how he is. He’ll take everybody in if he could…to a fault.

 

But I’m in charge now.

 

Our situation would have been different if she came from somewhere else. I understand schools cutting off specialized courses, and we’re the only public college within the vicinity dogged enough to keep our film program. But City College has been pulling cheap aces up their sleeves at us for years. I’m not going to let that happen on my watch.

 

We both know how each of us operates, Waite. You have your methods. I have mine. Neither is exactly straight and narrow. But you’re a businessman. I know trust is still one of your most valued tenets.”

 

Jeff leans on the table.

 

“So, humor me. Am I shaking up trees if I do or don’t forward your concern to Frankie?”

 

He winks at Frankie.

Surprisingly, she gives an enthused response he’d never received from Frankie before.

 

“I came here with the purest intention, Winger, and that’s to find my sister a job. But you know what? You just gave me an idea.”

“And that is?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.”

“No. I really don’t.”

“I know where each and every gallon of paint is. I know where every gun, grenade, and R&D prototype is hidden. I know that the school is holding drills you happen to find loopholes for on the state constitution. I know where every pro- and anti-gun organization in Riverside –“

“There are no records for a Summer Waite in Riverside, Bob.”

 

Frankie tossed her phone on the table, feeling Winger-ish.

 

“If she’s gifted and she graduated with a film diploma, the earliest age she can graduate college, given that she’d dallied, will be 18. She’d have had a student’s license when she’s 15, given this is every-shop-a-mile Colorado. I can’t find her student profile or her CV in City College’s records.”

“My name’s not really Summer, but I am his sister.”

 

Jeff leers.

 

“Where are you getting at with this, Bob?”

 

Bob Waite clenches his teeth.

 

“He’s my brother from another father, Winger. Don’t be a dick.” Summer growled.

“You’re a smart girl, Summer. Surely you can see this from my point of view.”

 

Summer shoots Frankie a glare she’s too intimidated to hold.

 

“My name is Jennifer Riley. Bob Waite is my brother. We’re the only family we have left. We’re the family we choose to have. I go by the name I had filed for change for months now.”

 

She shifts her glare to Bob.

 

“But bureaucracy’s a bitch, innit?”

 

Summer abruptly stands up.

 

“I told you this was a bad idea, Bob. You could have just forwarded my CV to --”

 

She dismissively waves a hand at the group.

 

“Whoever’s in charge.”

 

She turns to leave…

 

…and then…

 

…something stops her in her tracks.

 

“Hey Guys.”

 

FFFWHOOMP!

 

All sound is sucked into a vacuum.

Everything is in slow motion.

Britta’s face shifting from shock to glee.

Craig Pelton sitting up from the table and gasping.

 

Jeff sees Frankie. Her eyes widen and she mouths the one name he’d been waiting to hear from across the table for months now.

 

He turns around, and he’s there.

 

Abed’s back.

 


End file.
